


Adulthood Is A Thought Process (and not everyone needs to think)

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: De-aging, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's clearly the hand of Zeus that strikes Brendon down after he spends too long pissing everyone off by being stoic. Spencer's gonna convert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adulthood Is A Thought Process (and not everyone needs to think)

Spencer figures out that Brendon likes guys first. Shit, he knows before Brendon does. He doesn’t say anything because saying ‘oh by the way you’re checking out guys’ isn’t subtle. Spencer doesn’t consider himself Mr Tact, but there’s a place to stop before outright jerkoffishness, and Spencer’s gonna put his foot down there.

He does write a short entry about it on his blog. He needs to because when Ryan figures it out he won’t believe Spencer knew first unless there’s dated proof. But that doesn’t count. It’s not like anyone reads his Livejournal. Every entry is locked, unlike some people he could mention.

After a while though, he’s got to say something. Watching Brendon watch guys at the mall without dropping innuendo is too painful. At the mall it’s practically mandatory to be skeevy about whatever body parts are your favourites.

“You know it’s okay to suck dick, right? Like I get that the Mormons probably aren’t down with it. But you can suck as much dick as you want.”

Brendon seems a bit startled. “Uh, okay?”

“I figured you should know.”

“Thanks, I guess. But I’m a big boy, I know how to Google.”

Spencer highly doubts Brendon has unfiltered internet, but whatever. “Yeah, ‘kay. whatever. Just saying.”

***

Spencer knows Brendon has crushes. He’s got the normal completely unattainable ones, like Pete Wentz and Gerard Way. Spencer gets that, although he’d rather go for Frank, if they’re talking My Chem. More enthusiasm. Spencer can appreciate someone willing to break their kneecaps because they’re that into thrashing to the music. 

Unattainables aren’t the problem. It’s the unqualified that Spencer’s worried about. That’s the second kind of crush, the third being the plausibles. Unqualified are what they sound like; being somehow not fitting. There are two subtypes; physical and mental. You can’t be someone’s tall and anorexic waif if you’re short with double D’s, and you can’t be someone’s anarchist if you think the Republicans have a good stance.

Brendon’s unqualified crush on Brent is a physical thing. Brent will never like him back, because he has a penis. Brent’s not aggressively dude-bro heterosexual, but on the Kinsey scale he’s whatever side of the scale means exclusively breasts and vag.

Brendon’s unqualified crush on Ryan is mental. Ryan is an intellectual snob, the kind of person that watches independent films because they’re independently made, not because they have subject matter that he cares about at all. Brendon’s way too accepting and enthusiastic for him.

“So, you wanna talk about how you love everyone in the band?” It maybe shouldn’t be said like that, but Spencer is a blunt guy. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m good. I’m a grown up.”

Spencer doesn’t push it. As long as Brendon doesn’t ruin things by actually hitting on either of them, Spencer doesn’t need to get involved if Brendon doesn’t want him to.

***

“They kicked me out.”

“Are you sure?”

Brendon stares at the floor, Spencer stares at Brent, and Ryan pulls out the claws. “Does it seem like the kind of thing you wouldn’t be sure about?”

“Well, no. But...” Brent rallies. “Fuck you Ryan, you know what I mean. Like ‘get out of my house’ meaning you have to go eat dinner somewhere else. Spend the night, maybe.”

“No, it was Mom promising to supplement my rent if the paycheck from the Hut couldn’t cover it.”

“Holy fuck!”

“It’ll be fine, right? Yeah, I think,” Brendon answers himself.

Brent looks at the floor, then back at Brendon. “Shit, is there anything we can do? I mean my parents won’t let you move in, but is there any other way we can help?” 

Spencer doesn’t think his parents will go for it either, and everyone in the room knows Ryan can’t offer. In his opinion, offering to help him take a few backpacks worth of belongings is pretty worthless.

“Well, I’m an adult now. I can probably figure it out. Thanks though, and I’ll let you know.”

***

Spencer tries to spend a lot of time at Brendon’s apartment. It has a threefold purpose. For one, it gets him away from Crystal and Jackie, and the hordes of girls that seem to always be over. For another, Brendon would never admit to it, but it must be lonely for him. Spencer wants to be company. Thirdly, it’s not the best neighbourhood, and Spencer figures if someone breaks in with a knife, his being there will double the chances of one of them being able to call 911. 

The apartment doesn’t really change much from day to day. He doesn’t have a lot of clothes to put in piles on the floor, his old room didn’t have posters he liked enough to bother to relocate, and he doesn’t have money for frivolous things like plants. Today it is different from the norm though. In a bad way. “Brendon, it’s kinda cold in here.”

“Yeah. The window won’t close.”

‘What?”

Brendon shrugs and says matter of factly, “I opened it and it’s stuck.” 

Spencer gets off the bed doubling as a couch and goes to the window. As hard as he tries, he can’t get it closed. “You want me to call my dad or something?”

“No.”

“So then what do you want to do?” He’s well aware that the landlord is completely useless, but it’s gonna be colder before it gets warmer. And when it gets warmer there will be bugs.

“Want? I want to get it closed, and get a curtain, and that way the sun doesn’t glare on the screen of the television I own as I watch speciality channels while eating popcorn with melted butter.” Each point hits harder for it’s lack, whether Brendon means it to or not. “Will do? Deal with it. It’s not even that cold, I don’t notice if I wear a hoodie to bed.”

“But-”

“I’m a grown up, Spence. That means dealing with things, not crying and whining.”

***

Spencer glances at the caller before picking up, out of habit. But it’s Brendon, so it doesn’t even take until the second ring. “Spencer, can you come over?”

“Yeah, sure. I just gotta have dinner and-”

“No. I need you right now.”

“I’ll have to ask my-”

“I’m like a little kid right now, and I really need your help.”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.” 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to-” He doesn’t get a chance to finish. Brendon’s already hung up.

To Spencer, there’s no real choice. Of course he’s going to bail on dinner and go over. Getting yelled at later is worth helping Brendon now. With all the shit he’s been through, Brendon has the right to be emotional. And if he has to make fun of himself and call himself a baby for it, it’s better than not feeling at all, but Spencer wants to be there to tell him mocking himself is stupid.

He goes quietly down the stairs and sneaks to the garage for his bike. Taking the car would involve one of two things. Either he asks permission and they have a lengthy interrogation about where he’s going and for how long and how safe is he going to be getting there, all of which delays helping Brendon, or he steals the keys and faces a massive amount of shit when he gets back, including grounding which means missing practice which means Ryan kills him. Biking is just the easier option.

Spencer is expecting a lot of things, most of them vaguely awkward or embarrassing. Crystal once had such a huge tantrum over her Barbie DVD breaking that her sobbing made her vomit. Spencer thinks he can handle that though, or weeping, or anything else Brendon throws at him. He’s not super into Brendon, but he’s seen on tv that some people deal with grief through sex, so he’s even half prepared to trade blowjobs.

He isn’t in a million years expecting literalness. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy _shit_.”

“Yeah, so okay, Spencer, here’s the thing. I’m really hungry and the only thing I have is cans of soup.”

That can’t be healthy. Spencer’s heard in cooking class of that woman that died because all she had was rice, which has like no nutrients. It distracts him away from the obvious issue for a second. “The only-”

“There was sale, you have to use sales. Focus. If it was oven food I could just use the chair to climb up the counter to turn on the oven. But I need stove top. I’ve thought about it all day and I can’t figure out how to do it without burning myself.”

“You’ve been like this all day? And you didn’t call for help until seven thirty?”

“Spencer. Grown up, remember? I mean, I guess not right now. But I can handle things.”

“No!” Spencer doesn’t know he’s furious until he’s shouting. “Fuckin’ no! If you call yourself an adult or a grown up one more time I’m punching you in the face, I don’t care that you’re three.”

“That would look really bad.”

“I _don’t care_. Sit the fuck down and watch Cat in the Hat on Youtube while I make dinner.”

“I’m not actually three, Spencer. I just look it.”

“Don’t even front, you know you’d watch it regardless.”

“Whatever,” he says, voice little but full of scorn. Spencer decides not to say anything when he hears the Recess theme song a minute later. Sometimes kid shows are the only thing in the world that can make Spencer smile before noon. It’s been a while since Brendon’s smiled and looked like he meant it, if that takes Gretchen and Vince and Miss Finster Spencer will gladly listen.

He doesn’t know how long this is going to last. He’s not entirely convinced he didn’t get hit by a car and is in a coma. Although if it was a dreamscape of his own creation, Brendon wouldn’t be so goddamn annoying. But for as long as it does last, Spencer’s going to take care of Brendon. He’s finally tiny enough that he can’t argue it.


End file.
